Improving Foreign Relations
by IlluminatedShadow
Summary: And for an island, no less. Denmark/Canada


This one-shot is for the other brave DenCan writers and tatterdemalion, especially tatterdemalion, who has a lovely fic of her own, "Braver to Know", because I never would've considered this pairing seriously without her. _She unleashed this upon the world._

Yeah, you read that right. Denmark/Canada. What? I have mochi sex and a /Canada and I shipped/ship Trudeau/Canada. This should be no surprise~

Enjoy~

Warnings: sexual situation, rare pairing, use of Wikipedia regarding an issue I don't know much about, OOCness, language, slash

Pairing: DenCan

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Hetalia.

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><p>"Aw, come on." Denmark grinned, tweaking Canada's errant curl playfully. "Don't be such a spoilsport, border buddy."<p>

Canada glared at him and proceeded to shove the taller nation away and go back to gathering his clothes. "Forget improving our foreign relations." The North American hissed, tugging on his boxers. "Fucking you is like bedding a child." He swatted at the Nordic who was hovering around him, a shit eating grin on his face. "Every time, Denmark. _Every time._"

Denmark rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around Canada's middle, hauling the frustrated nation off the ground and against his chest, and carried him back to bed. "You're definitely England's kid—you have no sense of fun. Its always 'I'm only here to watch hockey with Sweden' or 'don't plant your flag on my land' or 'don't cum on my face, you hoser'." The nation mimicked in _falsetto. _"Thank Odin for your pretty face and nice ass."

"Next time you send a boat to Hans Island, I'm going to sink it." The blond huffed, scowling up at the other after Denmark sent them both tumbling onto the bed.

"And if you send a helicopter, I'll shoot it down." Denmark responded, propping himself up by his elbow and smiling fondly at the younger nation who was lying on his back next to him. "And it'll spiral to the ground in a blaze of fire and then I'll invade and pillage the weather station and burn it to the ground. It'll be just like old times. Maybe Norway will be willing to put on the old furs and helmet. Hell, Sweden might even bring the spears."

A little unnerved by the nostalgic glimmer in the Dane's eyes, Canada rolled over and lightly slapped his face to bring the older nation back to reality. When Denmark blinked at him before giving him a charming smile, the francophone rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss against the curve of his jaw.

"Of course, I might be convinced not to." Denmark teased, resting one broad hand against the curve of Canada's waist before teasingly dragging down the band of his crimson boxers. When the blond shifted, brushing soft, airy kisses down Denmark's throat, the Dane chuckled, voice husky, "I suppose the whole flag warfare still has an appeal."

"Shut up." Canada murmured, lightly biting at the other's collarbone. "Shut up and just touch me." He bucked against Denmark pointedly.

With a slightly wicked grin, Denmark slid his hand into Canada's boxers and, gathering a handful of soft flesh, squeezed, earning a throaty moan from the violet-eyed nation in his bed. Then, making short work of divesting the Canadian from his boxers (with help from Canada who just squirmed and kicked until they were off), the Dane rolled Canada over onto his back and smirked down at the other.

Canada returned his look with an unimpressed frown, one wrist resting on his forehead and the other arm thrown across the warm spot where Denmark's body had been. Violet eyes, darkened, regarded him with subdued interest and there was a rosy flush across his cheeks and the top of his chest.

Denmark's smile softened and he stroked the other's thighs, sweeping across fair skin with large palms, cradling the curve of his flesh and feeling sparse golden hair until his touch. "How do you want to do this?"

The question was a little unfamiliar to him. He wasn't used to asking his partner how he or she wanted the deed done. Once upon a time, he just did it, tears and screams only egging him on. Later, sex just became something quick and quiet and usually not sober because Norway was cold and Sweden still hated him. Then he had a dry spell and this whole silly thing with Hans Island (because, well, it was silly compared to the other battles he had) had been a pain in the ass until he was formerly introduced with Canada.

And Canada. Well, Canada was a challenge. Because the island probably wasn't a big deal, but it was the principle of the matter. And he wasn't about to back down.

Denmark suspected the kid was a little bored too.

(He recognized the sleepy haze in the other's vivid eyes, just beyond the swirl of blue, that hid a darker purple, a more menacing, colder side of winter that had laid latent for so long. Maybe it was his dormant Norse side, the hidden berserker that the world had no place for after the wars and only surfaced during a particularly vicious hockey match.)

Canada had sidestepped him, deked, and strung him along, playing coy and innocent in only a way that France could've taught.

But Denmark got the last laugh because now he was a little obsessed with the Canadian, much to Canada's dismay.

(And he could say how Canada conquered his heart but that would be stupid and a really unsubtle way to express England's influence.)

"Well, first…" Canada smiled and beckoned him to come closer and, conceding, the Dane did so and the younger nation wrapped his arms around his broad shoulders. "I want you to fuck me." He whispered, breath warm against the curve of Denmark's ear. "I want you to fuck me so hard, I scream."

Denmark's member, that had stayed happily semi-erect throughout everything, decided to rise to the occasion. It twitched against Canada's hip.

"I want you spread me wide and take me. I want it rough and hard…again and again…" Canada's breath was now labored and his lithe form was squirming deliciously against the hard body above him.

Denmark, dry mouthed, nodded and turned his head slightly, to kiss and nip at Canada's neck. "And?" He whispered hoarsely, kneading the other's flesh gently.

"And then…" Canada paused to mewl as Denmark began to kiss him again, lips and teeth working against his skin, and his grip on the other's thigh tightening as he grinded against the blond. Violet eyes fluttered shut and Canada threw his head back, wavy hair smearing across the white of the pillow and cheeks red. "I want you to withdraw your claim to Hans Island."

"Whatever you wa—hey." Denmark pulled back, giving the younger nation a frown, his light blue eyes narrowed.

Canada merely gave him a breathless, innocent smile. "It was worth a shot."


End file.
